• You stand there in front of me
    Holding the rusty axe,
    With a smirk on you face--
    Your eyes as sharp and icy as ever and peering right at me
    You steps toward me are slow,
    But heavy.

    I stand up and stumble back and
    You push me back down--
    Only to hurt me
    With the rusted axe,
    You swung it high above yourself and then cut down
    Hitting me and yourself.

    Your blooded,
    I'm blooded and dying inside
    While you continue to chop away at my heart and flesh,
    Doing so had turned your smirk in a twisted isane grin--
    You must have enjoyed all the pain and hurting you have caused me.